I looked down at the heavy black drive, feeling a surge of white-hot, unstoppable power flow through my veins. The years of emotional abuse, the public humiliation at my own wedding, and the mocking laughter of fifty elite guests evaporated, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp resolve.
“Mateo,” I said, looking up at him with a proud, radiant smile, “get dressed. We have a reception to crash.”
Chapter 3: The Boardroom Execution
Downstairs in the grand ballroom, the crystal chandeliers cast a brilliant glow over fifty of the region’s wealthiest socialites, factory owners, and corrupt politicians.
Doña Teresa stood at the head of the champagne fountain, holding a crystal glass, holding court with her wealthy friends while making loud, mocking jokes at my expense.
“My poor Valeria!” Teresa laughed loudly, sipping her vintage champagne as her friends chuckled. “She was always so soft-headed! Marrying a penniless servant with three illegitimate children! I suppose someone has to manage the servants’ quarters, right?”
